


To Bitch, With Love From Jerk

by dotfic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Epistolary, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-22
Updated: 2008-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 15:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has written to his brother a few times over the years. Sometimes he even gives Sam the letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Bitch, With Love From Jerk

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: Thanks to [](http://marinarusalka.livejournal.com/profile)[**marinarusalka**](http://marinarusalka.livejournal.com/) for looking this over for me.

Der Samy,

In skol we are lerning to writ, teacher helped me. Some day I'll show you to.

from,  
Dean

~*~

Sammy,

This is handwriting practice. I needed something to write so I'm writing to you. Not because I need to write you a letter. Hello, how are you?

Yours Sincrly,  
your big brother,  
Dean

~*~

The Chocolate Goblin  
A story  
by Dean Winchester

Once upon a time there was a kid named Sam Winchester who liked chocolate ice cream best. One day the chocolate goblin showed up to steal all the chocolate and Sam Winchester hit it on the nose with an ice cream cone and saved all the chocolate. The chocolate goblin was mad at him but Sam just said no, you can't have all the chocolate, go away, goblin. And the goblin ran away. Then Sam and his brother and his dad ate chocolate ice cream.

The end.

~*~

Dork, if you take my walkman again without asking and I will stick it up your nose. I'm holding your favorite shirt hostage until you give me that that bag of m&m's I know you're hoarding and return my property. Put both items in my backpack by tomorrow at 0800 or else. Tell Dad and you will be beyond sorry.

~*~

Sam - this is kind of stupid but I'm going to go crazy with boredom. I've already looked at all the magazines you and Dad brought me. One of the nurses brought me some paper and pens, so I'm writing this letter. The food is terrible. My leg feels better and man, there is nothing on TV, there's no cable. It's too quiet and kind of lonely at night. Dad said I needed to tell you that I don't think it was your fault. Because I don't, and it wasn't. I would've done it again because what, you think I'm going to let some monster take a bite out of you? Anyway, like I said my leg doesn't hurt as much so don't worry.

-Dean

P.S. I don't even know if I'm going to give this to you. I might not.

  


~*~

Dear Sam,  
Hope you're having a good time at Pastor Jim's. This motel Dad and I are staying in is a shit hole dump. We're close to getting this ghost, I'm doing a lot of the research and making salt rounds. It's peaceful here, especially without you yakking at me, ha ha and nobody is taking my toothbrush or giving me lip about who should ride shotgun and asking me eighty questions an hour.

Okay, I'm kidding, I wish you could've come with us, you would've liked the house, it's real old and there's a big dent in the stone wall where a canon ball hit it during the war of 1812, or maybe it was the American Revolution. It's hot and I've got a zillion mosquito bites and they itch like crazy. I hate mosquitoes.

Itchily yours,  
Dean

P.S. Dad says you be good for Pastor Jim, behave and all. We'll be back soon.

P.P.S. This is my P.S., which is to say I'm looking after Dad and he'd never let anything happen to me so when I say we'll be back soon, I mean it, so relax. Find a cute girl in Sunday school to talk to or something.

~*~

Dear Sam,  
This waiting's a pain in the butt, so I'm writing this to pass the time. The doc just came out and said you were still in surgery. I'm one hundred percent sure I'm probably not going to give you this letter but it's making me feel better to write it. Next time Dad gives you an order, you should follow it, jackass.

Please don't die. I don't know what I'd do. And Dad neither. So just. Don't, okay? Just don't.

I'm scared.

-Dean

P.S. I'm definitely never giving you this letter.

~*~

Dude, the silent treatment's getting old. Okay, I admit it, I was wrong. I shouldn't have flirted with Susan, right in front of you, when I knew how you felt about her. But she's like five years older than you. You weren't ever getting a piece of that anyway. I get why you're mad at me, could you start talking to me again?

~*~

Sam: leaving shaving cream in my boots? Isn't that a little immature? You are such a bitch. -Dean

~*~

Sam,  
Gotcha!  
Dean

~*~

Sam,  
Truce? Please?!?  
Dean

~*~

Dear Sam,

Here's the list of stuff Dad said for you to pick up. Make sure the silver's pure, test it the way he showed you. I've gone over to Riverhead to pick up the nets we need. There's leftover pizza in the fridge. Dad won't be back until tomorrow and then we're all going to take those buggers down together. Hope things went okay with your test.

Dean

~*~

Sam,

I knew you'd never accept this so I put it in your duffel when you weren't looking. Don't bother trying to pay me back. You're going to need stuff at that fancy school of yours. It's just a couple of nights worth of hustling pool, and mowing a few lawns. No biggie. Look after yourself, okay? You geek.

-Dean

P.S. Lay down the salt every night. But you knew that.

~*~

Geek boy: the hunting's good in Nevada. Hope college life is treating you ok. -Dean

~*~

Dad won't admit it but he misses you. The mountains are amazing, wish you could see this.

~*~

Sam, we're in Wyoming. Cowboy ghosts. Pretty cool. We saw them last night, riding.  
-Dean

~*~

You know Dad didn't mean what he said, right?  
Dean

~*~

Hey, Nerdface: Mexico! So awesome. -Dean

~*~

Sam where the hell R U?

~*~

Went out to get more cheeseburgers, also, the chick at the cash register. Read this -- think it might be a job. -D.

~*~

Sammy-

There's no point in me leaving a will. Everything I ever had is yours. Only if you're okay with it, I'd like Bobby to have one of my hunting knives and any of the guns you don't want to keep -- don't know what else I've got he'd want, unless he wants my mix tapes -- but I wanted him to have something because, it's Bobby. If Ellen or Jo ask about me, tell them you hope they'll remember me in a good way and the thought of me won't make them curse.

I've attached ~~two~~ three pages of instructions on how to look after the Impala, please pay particular attention to the list on page two. Especially about what to do after it rains. And the upholstery, and what to do when she makes that funny noise on cold mornings sometimes, after she first starts up.

You are not ALLOWED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES WHATSOEVER in any WAY SHAPE OR FORM to come into Hell after me, trade your soul for mine, or make any kind of bargain or deal for any part of yourself with ANYTHING on my behalf. Or for any other reason. Stop THINKING about it. Period. Full stop.

I get now why Dad did what he did, it's the same reason I'm doing it for you and if you're anywhere near as pissed off at me as I was at Dad, then you're pretty damned furious at me right now. If it's any comfort to you, but I'm guessing not, I'm more angry than frightened. It's really unfair, how it fell out, it's not right, but there was no other way. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.

-Dean

P.S. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES. GOT IT?

~*~

Sam,

Got your postcard. Hope you're enjoying yourself at Sarah's. Florida's terrific. Sun makes me burn. My favorite time is night, the air's soft and the women, Sam, the women. Anyway I know we promised, no hunting, only relaxing but something was chomping on swimmers and it turns out it wasn't a shark. Took it down with a harpoon.

I've attached a sketch. Ever seen anything like that?

Yeah, okay, no more hunting, not for another two weeks.

Dean

~*~

Dear Sam,

This is dumb. This is really lame and you're probably laughing your ass off at me right now. No, Sam, there is no point to this letter except I wanted to see what it felt like to put a permanent address in the upper left-hand corner of the envelope.

Shut up.

Dean

~*~

To: samwinchester@gmail.com  
From: stonecoldcrazy@gmail.com

In answer to your question, Alaska's really friggin' cold. Kind of beautiful in a frightening way. Me and two local hunters took out a herd of possessed caribou. Nasty. I'm fine, heading home soon. Had to put chains on the tires of the Impala to deal with the roads. Good luck with that haunting in Boise. You'd better not slack off studying for your LSAT's or I'll kick your ass. Say hi to Sarah for me.

~*~

Pick you up at 0500. Something big going down.

~*~

To: samwinchester@gmail.com  
From: stonecoldcrazy@gmail.com  
FWD: TV series

We'll talk about this when I see you tomorrow, but read this first. The guy sounds a little nuts. Says he wants to make a TV show based on our lives. He goes on for a while about Jack Kerouac and Star Wars.

Man, this whole thing has been like bizarro world, between the reporters calling and the thing with the senator and the talking heads yakking on about us on CNN. It's too weird.

Guess when we saved the world this time, someone noticed, huh?

~end


End file.
